Small Wonders
by PerfectPerception
Summary: Prompt drabbles focused on Hannah Montana characters. Various pairings and themes used. Latest Prompt: 096. Writer’s Choice: Déjà Vu. "Next time, he’ll protect your heart." Jake/Miley.
1. 051 Fireflies

**Prompt:** 051. Fireflies  
**Rating:** G**  
Genre: **Friendship/Romance  
**Word Count (on Microsoft Word):** 401  
**Notes:** It's little longer than I expected but I'm fairly happy with the way it turned out. Inspired by my childhood spent mostly on the coast of Cape Code catching fireflies (yes, even if they're more abundant in Maryland, they dwell in the Cape too) with my cousins and family. Good times, good times :D  
**Characters:** Miley, Oliver, briefly mentioned Lilly.  
**Pairing(s): **Established Oliver/Lilly, implied one-sided Oliver/Miley  
**Summary: **She called them lightning bugs.

As he clung onto the last seam of summer threaded with dark, star-spilled over skies and dewy air, he wondered why the beaches in Cape Code looked far better than the ones in Malibu. They felt much more… real, in a sense. Very mundane, he supposed. While Malibu beaches appeared as if they were ripped right from painfully perfect postcards and he just couldn't live up to the perfectionism.

A low _buzzing_ sound rattled suddenly through his eardrum and he yelped, flailing his arms about as he jerked backwards. A familiar giggle immediately accompanied his clumsy fall and he huffed upon the instant recognition of the voice.

"_Miley_," he scolded, pulling himself up. "What was that for?!"

The beaming brunette, clad in a white sundress over her slightly damp swimsuit, shot him a smile and slightly opened her cupped hands to reveal a glowing insect ready to take flight from her sandy palms.

A smile eased its way onto his face. "A firefly? I thought you hated bugs."

"Not ones that light up," she nimbly responded, wiggling her free index finger at him. "Now come on. Lilly wants her _Ollipop_ and I gotta show you this bush filled with lightning bugs." She paused, glancing at him while they fell into step as they began to walk back to their rented beach house. "What? You don't wanna catch them with me?"

"You called them lightning bugs."

"So? Plenty of people call them that!"

He smirked crookedly, shaking his head in disagreement. "Nope. Just you."

"Whatever. Will you help me catch them then?"

"They're _bugs_."

She laughed. "Bugs that, if you catch them and let them go, carry your wishes on their backs. If they reach the sky," she pointed to the inky atmosphere above them, "then your wish will come true. Its _fun_, Oliver, just try it. Please, for me. Here, you take this one—"

Before he could respond, Oliver's hands were suddenly cradling the tiny bug Miley earlier harbored in her own delicate grasp. Swallowing hard, he began to hate himself for allowing her smiles and pleas to easily sway his better judgment and how his skin involuntarily shuddered at her slightest touch. He told himself it was simply because they were too close for comfort but…

"—and make a wish."

The firefly was suddenly off; zipping away into the black horizon.

_I wish I picked the right girl._

* * *

So I'm sorta back but not really. I'm definitely nowhere near in shape to continue my chaptered stories but I figured if I created a story where I can post multiple one-shots pertaining to certain themes, I'll slowly ease myself back into fiction. I'm actually pretty happy with the idea of this. It's definitely getting my inspiration juices flowing and reacquainting me with the characters. You can also request pairings for me, just not the prompts. I've already got a list of those. But I am open to any pairing, just not Jonas/Hannah Montana characters. And reviews would be love, too. (:


	2. 001 Immortal

**Prompt:** 001. Immortal**  
Rating:** K/K+**  
Genre: **General**  
Word Count (on Microsoft Word):** 377**  
Notes:** The setting is on a grass lawn or something akin to it. Besides that, there's really no notes, ha. Just a possible moment shared between the two, pre or post their hookup. (:  
**Characters:** Oliver, Lilly  
**Pairing(s): **Oliver/Lilly  
**Summary: **He could live a thousand lives and he'd still somehow manage to find her in each one.

"Hey Oliver," Lilly asks him in a hushed tone and he cranes his neck to look at her. "Do you ever wonder what it'd be like to live forever?"

He stops for a moment, not think of her question, but to notice the grass prickling his back and the irritating breeze sucking the air from him. Absentmindedly, he peers at her through the corner of his eye and he notes the candor of her expression and figures she truly does value his opinion. Or, well, at least for now. Maybe not so much when he eventually answers her.

"I guess it'd be really lonely," he theorizes finally. She cocks an eyebrow and so he explains, "no one could ever really relate to you, you know? You'd have to change with the time eras and… everyone you love would die."

The blonde rolls onto her stomach and props her chin up with her elbows, peering at him through eyes that always managed to glow even in the darkest of hours. "Are you afraid of dying alone, Oliver?"

"Not really," he says and she snorts.

"Oh, confident you'd be with a girl by then, eh?"

Oliver lifts his head and turns toward her and smiles gently. Her breath hitches. Slightly. _She still faltered_. "Not really. I think I could die a thousand times and never be too scared or too lonely."

She blinks in perplexity and he silently thinks she looks absolutely wonderful like this. "What? Why?"

"Because I'd always have _some_ sort of purpose in each life," he replies steadily, "and I think it'd always be to find you. It just so happens that this lifetime was a lot easier than the others."

Lilly takes a long pause before she gives him an odd, very Lilly-like smile and verbally comments on how warm today is before he lays his head back down. He sinks a little bit more into the grass and she squints at the horizon, humming a nameless tune that pirouettes against the many shades and tints of blue belonging to the sky.

And Oliver thinks, just as long as Lilly wants him in _this_ lifetime, he'll never have the need to live forever.

After all, she'll most certainly love him in his next life too.

* * *

Haa, I'm fairly sure most of my regular reviewers are a bit surprised on the pairing. But, no guys, I really don't discriminate against ships. I absolutely adore Oliver/AnyoneWhoMakesHimHappy buahahaha. Clever, I know. Pairing requested by **believeinlove08**. Thank you to those who reviewed! &please review if you can! (:


	3. 035 Coming Home

**Prompt:** 035. Coming Home**  
Rating:** K**  
Genre: **Angst  
**Word Count (on Microsoft Word): **507  
**Notes: **Admittedly, I really do like the aspect of Miley and Jake's relationship. He gives her an idea of what fame can do to a fairly decent person and how a little effort and friendship can change someone for the better. And I think she's the only girl—or person, for that matter—that he truly puts before himself and that, in itself, is beautiful. Sure, his actions are a bit misguided, but his intentions are mostly good, and, all in all, although I may never show it through my writing, I really _do_ like Jake's character.  
**Characters:** Jake, briefly mentioned Miley  
**Pairing(s): **One-sided Jake/Miley  
**Summary: **Jake Ryan never knew what it was like to be alone because he never had something to miss.

Jake Ryan leaves a lot.

Absences are piling upon absences in his school records, and the carpet in his room isn't ever vacuumed or cleaned. It's not his fault, though. After all, he's a movie star. And promoting and traveling to exotic, foreign countries laced with bright lights and kaleidoscope-like visions are just a few parts of the many principles one needs to be someone important and someone adored. But after a while the lights begin to dim, and the thousands of new colors begin to blur together, and all he can see is the same thing, day after day, no matter where he is or who he's with.

The hotel beds are nothing close to feeling like home, and the difference isn't uncomfortable, just a bit jarring and anamnestic, if anything. The sheets are pressed too tight and overly bleached, and the ripples run through his fingers like pearls; without a strand of dog hair or dirty patches from his baby brother's feet to be found. Things like these wouldn't be missed by many, and he doesn't really miss them (he never misses _anything_, remember?) he's just well acquainted with those type of things, and, without them, he feels a bit lost and farther away from home than he really is.

And whenever he returns, he knows that he's missed because his classmates come running towards him with questions to be answered and small-talk to be attended to. Sometimes though, in middle of the sea of his peers, he never feels so disconnected.

It's only when this funny feeling, unable to be pinpointed to a direct source in his body, does he think he sort of gets _it_. He gets it. He feels it. He understands it.

What he doesn't do is try to flourish it and embrace it. And instead, he tries to pretend that he's the same boy from before. A teenage heartthrob who knew nothing of friendship, loss, and unrequited love.

But when he catches her eye across the room, he knows how it feels to be the only person in the world. Then she'll look away, unaffected and maybe bitter, and he's still caught up in the moment and he doesn't think he'll ever let go of it, forcibly or not.

Jake Ryan still leaves a lot. He likes to throw a trail of broken pieces behind him because he knows whenever he decides to return, they'll already be blown off into the sky and he'll never have to care for them again. He doesn't make friends or even acquaintances—he makes fans. And sometimes he thinks he's vindictive and perfect. _Is he_? He also never thought he could purposely hate, either. But he does. And he never thought he'd lose something worth value, or that he'd ever feel _so alone_ in his life. But he did and he is. He's alone now, and he's never been so terrified in his life. (_Until now_) Jake Ryan never knew what it was like to be alone because he never had something to miss.

* * *

So… yeah. Poor Jake? "/ I never make him out to be the good person that I think he truly is. Anyways, thanks to those who earlier replied and reviews would be lovely like always (:


	4. 039 Coffee Break

**Prompt:** 039. Coffee Break**  
Rating:** T, light sexual reference**  
Genre: **General, Humor**  
Word Count (on Microsoft Word):** 138**  
Notes:** Personally, I think the one-shot's semi-cute (: I don't really like how it ends, though.  
**Characters:** Lilly, Jake  
**Pairing(s): **Jake/Lilly  
**Summary: **Little oddities.

She awakens with her soft, never-ending eyelashes fluttering lightly against her cheeks and a foreign but beckoning smell tickling her nose.

Blinking her surroundings clearer, she finds his large hands guiding and coaxing hers from under the white, white sheets and wraps one of her hand's set of fingers around a steaming cup. She sniffs before peering curiously over the rim; much like a child would with an unrecognizable object.

"Coffee?" she realizes and glances at him. He nods. "But it isn't morning."

He thinks. Then, "coffee break."

"You're odd," she giggles with the coffee cup still in hand, the dark liquid crashing against the walls of the mug, and he grins cheekily back before kissing the side of her mouth and then slips back under the covers where her bare body already laid.

"Only for you, babe."

* * *

Buahaha. I lovelovelove Jake/Lilly. Thank you fellow closet Jake/Lilly fan, **AHigherOctave**, for requesting it :D Reviews always=love.


	5. 091 Butterflies

**Prompt:** 091. Butterflies  
**Rating:** K**  
Genre: **Humor  
**Word Count (on Microsoft Word):** 481  
**Notes:** Because the themes are somewhat connected, this correlates with _051. Fireflies_.  
**Characters:** Lilly, Jackson, briefly mentioned Miley, Oliver, Mr. Stewart  
**Pairing(s): **Jackson/Lilly  
**Summary: **Sometimes you meet things that look extraordinary, and then sometimes you meet extraordinary things.

"Jackson, Jackson! Don't kill it! It's a butterfly!"

"Right, _bugandfly_, gotcha."

"Don't play stupid, you know it's a butterfly," glared Lilly and he stiffened somewhat, his motions slowing to a complete stall.

He then proceeded to cock his head to the side. "Is _that_ the look Oliver's been tellin' me about?"

Blatantly ignoring his latter comment, the petite blonde gingerly coaxed the butterfly from the one of the many windowsills found throughout the Stewart's house and onto the tip of her finger; displaying the fanning insect to the older boy. "See? It's not just some stupid bug, it's unique and pretty and definitely not something worth killing."

His arms fell to his side and he let out an exasperated sigh. "I gotta hand it to you, girls. You're the most _ridiculous_ things in this world to even bother to try to figure out. I mean, you and Miles wish death upon every type of bug and insect except for the 'pretty' ones, which apparently, are only fireflies and butterflies."

"My mom and I call them _Painted Ladies_, actually," she snapped. "If you actually look at it, Jackson, you'll find that there's something extraordinary about them; something beautiful about them. Something that gives you the impression that not _all_ bugs are ugly, scary, or annoying."

"Hey, I'm a _man_ and I don't think bugs are 'ugly, scary, or annoying'. Up until now, I thought _you_ did. That's why I offered you my exterminating business," he briskly informed before twisting around to examine the butterfly; noting, "but, uh, me thinks you sound a little bitter there, little lady."

"Are you saying that I can relate to it?" she blinked and he half-heartedly shrugged. She lowered her gaze upon the thought of his accusation and gently pushed the glass slate open, freeing the poor insect from its impending doom by Jackson's plastic flyswatter. "No. I'm just another bug."

A crease appeared across Jackson's forehead and, in the right angle and under serious circumstances, he looked a bit like his dad. "You don't think you're extraordinary, Lilly?"

"Well, it's hard to think you are with Hannah Montana as your friend," she explained evenly. "I mean, I love Miley, don't get me wrong. And, really, I guess I'm not anything special or close to being incredible—with or without her as my friend."

He inhaled a sharp breath, swinging the bright highlighter-yellow flyswatter over his shoulder before pivoting to the right. He then made a quick beeline for the stairs, calling over his shoulder while departing, "ah. Well, I think maybe if you spent a little less time saving those butterflies, and a little more looking in the mirror, you'll be more than surprised at what you see."

His words stood in the air and Lilly just then realized that the '_Jackson stench_' she and Miley always complained about seemed to have currently vanished off him.

* * *

Pairing requested by **If You Can.**. Admittedly, I really don't like Jackson and Lilly together. I obviously prefer Jake/Lilly because I'm such an avid crack fan buahaha. But anyways, my next prompt is already in the works, thank you for the previous feedback everyone, you can now lurk me on livejournal, andddd reviews would be lovely! (:


	6. 045 Wasted

**Prompt:** 045. Wasted (1/2)  
**Rating:** T, alcohol and domestic abuse references**  
Genre: **Drama  
**Word Count (on Microsoft Word):** 700  
**Notes: **This was originally one story, however, it passed the exceeded limit of 1000 words so it's stretched into two separate parts and prompts. The characters' ages are pretty vague, but written under the impression of them being a little older than 19.  
**Characters:** Miley, Oliver, briefly mentioned Lilly, Jake  
**Pairing(s): **Oliver/Miley; implied Oliver/Lilly, Jake/Miley  
**Summary: **At the end of the day, we always become the person we swore we wouldn't be.

It was only human nature for people to change. It was expected, even.

So we changed, and we grew, and sometimes we gathered these insipid little qualities we never thought we'd ever posses when we were younger. But that was a part of growing up, and if we looked too far back at the past, we lost our future in the process. So Oliver was advised to take small measured glances toward the back of his shoulder to catch tiny glimpses of what he used to be like, littered about the walkways he once traveled down, and then turned forward to see what he was now.

And, as of recently, he hated what he saw.

--

Miley stumbled into his apartment about a month ago, one hand fisted over her pounding heart, and alcohol and bruises painted across her body. Oliver kicked the television's screen in that night at the sight of Jake Ryan's face. Reflexively, she flinched but made no sound, and promised she'd move out by next week; never once questioning why his fiancée was absent.

Oliver and Lilly were engaged, or… _something like that_, he thought. So why was the aforementioned blonde living two neighborhoods away? She liked her independence, sure, but she liked her friends too. So it would only be natural to want to live with both of them, if not just him, right?

Maybe she trusted them to a fault. Or, maybe—as Oliver presumed with a persistent itching feeling that burned the very particles of his stretching skin—she never trusted them to begin with, and they were only confirming her worst fears.

Days then trickled into weeks and he began to watch Miley sleep. She moved around quite a bit, and muttered with nightmares. And when she was awake, there was fear that edged her usual spunk, a little awkward movement to her motions, and unfamiliar silence that hovered above her. He once told her, sloshing the dark tea around in his orange mug which Lilly bought him from Hawaii while vacationing there years back, that she spoke a lot in her sleep, and that she talked to people he assumed she had long forgotten all about.

"Really?" she swallowed in response. "And who do I talk to the most?"

"Me." he replied and she, unaffected by his answer, hesitated to think.

"Do you answer me back?" she asked next which troubled and confused him.

"Should I start?"

She clicked her tongue, leaning against the small kitchen island and pursed her lips in finalization. "I think so. Maybe I'll get some answers."

--

His dark eyes glowered over the plum-colored cocktail twirling around in his thin glass. She had taken a seat next to him on his brown leather couch; a wine glass between her own thin fingers with half of it downed already. He then glanced at the bottle placed a table away, noticing a significant amount missing, and looked at her next.

She was closer now, and her mascara was smudged messily across her bottom eyelids, and she smelled of mashed grapes and cinnamon and lost, broken things. She breathed a shaky breath on his shoulder and she was only being innocent; friendly even, but his mind was beginning to wander and he no longer found himself on her level.

"To your wedding in three weeks," she giggled unsteadily, clanging the glasses together.

He didn't drink to her toast at first, only downed the wine when she offered to drink what he initially refused to.

"You're getting married, Oliver," she sloppily repeated more times than once but all he could notice was how her bruises looked better under this lighting. "And you're getting married to the girl of your dreams. You should be _celebrating_."

She celebrated without him, kissing him on the cheek, and playfully danced around the apartment's living room until she grew tired and retired to the couch he was still sitting on.

She didn't talk to him in her sleep that night, only cried and cried.

In return, he never slept; tracing pictures on her arms and twirling his fingers in her matted hair throughout the dark hours.

_Three weeks, Oliver. Remember to find your happiness in three weeks._

* * *

Before I start on last minute author notes pertaining to the one-shot, did anyone else have the pleasure of seeing Mitchel Musso's _Hey_ music video? Because when I watched it, I began to mentally kick myself for breaking up with my Mitchel lookalike boyfriend—for physical/aesthetic purposes only, though haha. But, really, if you haven't already, you should definitely check it out. His voice is fairly decent, nothing too exceptional but its notably fair, and he's just such an adorable guy.

Anyways, if you're a little confused on how the prompt _Wasted_ was incorporated into this one-shot, it's an overall abstract theme to the plot and characters. Miley's career and life is wasted on her poor choice to be with someone who is implied to abuse her, Oliver could possibly waste his life on marrying someone he questions his love for, and Lilly's heart and trust is wasted on marrying someone she assumes is unfaithful. Next part of this should be up soon! Reviews would be lovelovelove (:


	7. 096 Writer’s Choice: Déjà Vu

**Prompt:** 096. Writer's Choice: Déjà Vu  
**Rating:** T, light gore  
**Genre: **Tragedy, Fantasy  
**Word Count (on Microsoft Word):** 353  
**Notes: **Set during the time Jake leaves for Romania. Some parts of the drabble are AU enough to rot your teeth. And also the overall déjà vu theme coincides with what 'past lives' are. I've been taught that you have déjà vu when you feel as if you've already experienced something before, or been at a certain place, but you haven't in _this_ lifetime per say.  
**Characters:** Miley, Jake  
**Pairing(s): **Jake/Miley  
**Summary: **Next time, he'll protect your heart.

At night, sometimes your mind wanders and you think maybe… maybe you've met him before. That maybe he's broken your heart in another life, too, and the thought isn't comforting.

You never really knew, though. But you think you might have an idea. Sort of. Because, out of all of your dreams, you vividly remember just one:

--

In your dream you wait on a tall hill, locked away in a stone castle, and you feel as if you're drowning. There's clashes of swords and armor and protective and destructive metal outside of your window, raging against sundown.

You wonder what ends first.

The day does and the battle carries on until you can no longer wait and sneak through the thousands of winding hallways of your castle. Outside the men, heavy with pride and iron suits, fight and fight and fight for your family's sake; for your sake. But you want nothing of it.

And when you open your garden's gates, you find patches of green missing with death replacing them.

You then pause and you turn to see him.

He's covered with this thick red substance you just can't bring yourself to think as blood, and gravel and sweat mats his bright, bright blond hair. You watch as he reaches for you, his helmet loudly clanking against the grass beside his feet as he abandons it, and you feel your body unravel as he says nothing but kisses you upon approach; his hands tangled in your long, brown hair. You feel lost and whole at the same time. You know you love him then. You just know it.

But when he pulls away you notice he's wounded, that he's dying, and you begin to sob into his slick neck.

He apologizes to you, knowing that your heart is breaking, and says that he's sorry; that you'll meet again and, next time, he won't mess up. Next time, he'll protect your heart. _Promise_.

--

There's a flash and a shutter that echoes somewhere off in Hollywood's still atmosphere and you think you see your heart become lost in the airways.

You start to cry.

* * *

Sorry I haven't updated in awhile and, on top of that, when I do I give you another JakeMiley ship with the usual tragic backdrop that I generally attach to them -_- But reviews would looooovely :)


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